


What a Good Day for a Walk Outside

by grapalicious



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AnimalRescuer!John, AnimalRescuer!Molly, Gen, Hummingbird!Sherlock, John and Molly friendship, John and Sherlock can have an epic friendship even if one of them is an animal, bonding with animals, or John/Molly relationship if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 11:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapalicious/pseuds/grapalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John saves a hummingbird with a broken wing. The hummingbird returns the favor.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>
  <i>John sighed and contemplated the bird. “You know, you’re quite lucky you don’t have any siblings. If you did, they’d probably just annoy the hell out of you.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Maybe the bird nodded or maybe it just happened to move its head at that moment but John felt as though the hummingbird thoroughly agreed with his statement.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Good Day for a Walk Outside

**Author's Note:**

> I remember reading a prompt at one point that asked for AnimalRescuer!John to save hummingbird!Sherlock and nurse him back to health. Sherlock then imprints on John and doesn't want to leave. I'm not sure _where_ that prompt is located, but it popped into my head and I decided to fill it on a whim. Enjoy.

“John?”

“Hmmm?” John looked up to see his colleague Molly gazing at him somewhat nervously.

“I was just wondering… I was going to meet some friends down at the Screeching Eagle and,” she fiddled nervously with her scarf, “was wondering, well… would you like to come?”

“Oh.” John glanced down at the ground then back up to her. “No, I don’t think so. I’m a bit tired. I’m just going to go home soon. Watch some crap telly. Go to bed.”

“It’s just-“ Molly bit her lip. “Well, it’s just you haven’t gotten out much lately and I think… it could be fun.” There was a lilt at the end of her words that almost made it sound like a question.

“Maybe another time.”

Molly stared at the end of her scarf that she held in her hand. “How was your- er, how did- um, how was your appointment with your therapist today?”

John stared at the ground as he answered. “Good. Really good.”

Whether Molly could tell he was lying or not, John didn’t know. She nodded and said, “Okay. Well… I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Right. Tomorrow.” 

She rocked back and forth, looking as if she wanted to say something else. But she just gave a tiny wave and was out the door. John sat alone for a few more minutes. Then he grabbed his cane and limped out the door into the night.

-  
-

John was walking into work when he saw it. A small thing huddled on the ground right at the edge of the pavement. He carefully moved closer to the tiny animal, hoping that the sound of his cane thumping against the ground wouldn’t frighten it. Slowly, John lowered his cane to the ground and knelt, wincing as pain shot through his leg.

He peered at the animal trying to assess any injuries. It was a bird, John could see clearly now. From its beak and the feathers, John could tell it was a hummingbird. He decided it was male from the way it was brightly colored, females usually had duller feathers. From the angle of its left wing, John suspected that it was broken.

“Hey, there,” John cooed at it, reaching out a hand. “Are you hurt?” The bird took a little hop away and looked at John warily. “It’s okay,” he told the bird. “I can help you. I work at the shelter that’s just down the road.” The hummingbird stared at him but didn’t move as John scooped it up into his hand. The little animal fit snuggly into the palm of his hand; it was smaller than the apple John ate for breakfast.

John stood back up, cane in one hand, hummingbird in the other, and made his way to work. Almost as soon as he was through the door to the shelter, Molly was next to him and inspecting the bird he was carrying.

“Oh, John, where did you find him?” she asked. 

“Right outside- not too far away. It looks like he’s been attacked or something. Seems like the wing is broken.” 

Molly nodded, still examining the bird. The hummingbird gave Molly a look that John could only describe as calculating. “He’s very pretty.”

“Yeah,” John agreed as he moved to set the bird down on an examination table. Molly wandered over to their office computer.

“Hmmm,” Molly said glancing between the computer screen and the poor hummingbird, “I think he’s a Blue-throated hummingbird.”

John walked over to look at the page Molly pulled up. He compared the picture to the bird sitting on the table. It was almost identical except for the fact that the bird he’d found was dirty and ragged looking. “I think you’re right.”

“Did you know,” said Molly as the both of them made their way back over to the bird, “that hummingbirds are native to the Americas?”

Huh. No, John hadn’t known that. He’d honestly never given much thought to hummingbirds before today.

John peered down at the creature. It looked tired but didn’t seem very frightened. John was able to reach out and stroke a finger on its head. “I wonder how you got here. You must feel all alone in the world.”

“It’s alright,” Molly cooed at it. “We’ll fix you up good as new. We’ll take care of you.”

-  
-

 

John’s suspicions were correct. The bird had a broken wing. It probably got attacked by a cat.

He studied the bird while he fed it. It really was a beautiful bird and now that it’d been cleaned up, its feathers looked even more vibrant than they had before.

The sound of his phone buzzing caught John’s attention and he stopped feeding the bird to pick it up off the desk. His sister was calling. John ignored the call and set the phone down.

“Sorry,” he apologized to the bird as he started to feed it again. The bird tilted its head in an almost quizzical manner. John wondered if the bird was really as intelligent as it seemed to be or if John was just so deprived of social connections that he felt the need to converse with a hummingbird. John decided it didn’t really matter. Animals were smart and people talked to their pets all the time whether they could understand what was being said or not. Maybe the sound of John talking would at least be comforting to the hummingbird.

“That was my sister,” John explained. “Her name is Harry- er, that’s short for Harriet. She says she’s concerned about me. Wants to help out. But the thing is we’ve never really gotten along and- I don’t know. I just wish she’d stop worrying about me and worry about herself. She’s got a bit of a drinking problem, but of course she won’t even admit it to herself because she’s so stubborn. I’ve tried to get her help but we always end up arguing. And she thinks _I’m_ the stubborn one.”

John sighed and contemplated the bird. “You know, you’re quite lucky you don’t have any siblings. If you did, they’d probably just annoy the hell out of you.”

Maybe the bird nodded or maybe it just happened to move its head at that moment but John felt as though the hummingbird thoroughly agreed with his statement.

-  
-

 

“He needs a name,” Molly said, pursing her lips in contemplation.

“Sherlock.”

“What?” Molly frowned at John.

“Sherlock,” John repeated. “That’s his name.”

“Is that even a real name?”

“It’s a unique name. Like him.”

A sly smile appeared on Molly’s face. “I thought you didn’t like to name the animals. What is it you always say? ‘Naming the animals will only make it harder for me to let go when they’re ready to leave’?”

John rolled his eyes. He didn’t think he phrased it exactly like that. Yes, it was true that he usually let Molly name the animals. But just because he gave this one hummingbird a name didn’t mean he was going to get attached to it.

-  
-

 

Slowly, Sherlock’s wing started to improve. He could now fly very short distances, but seemed to tire quickly. John sympathized with him.

“I know it must be frustrating,” John told Sherlock after one of their flying lessons. He gestured to his own leg. “I have a bit of trouble getting around myself.”

He stroked Sherlock’s head. “But you’ll get better. You’re already improving very well.” John and Sherlock sat in peaceful silence for a minute.

“Can I tell you a secret?” John asked Sherlock quietly. “My therapist says that my limp is psychosomatic. And-” John bit his lip before continuing even quieter, “I think she’s right.” Sherlock fluttered his wings slightly and settled back down in John’s hand.

“She also says I have trust issues. I suppose she might be right about that too. Although… I can think of someone I can trust.”  
It might not have been a person, but trusting a hummingbird, especially one like Sherlock, was better than not trusting at all. 

-  
-

“You seem a lot happier,” Molly commented.

“Do I?”

“Yes, well, I mean it’s not like you were exactly _unhappy_ before it’s just…” she trailed off awkwardly. John took sympathy on her.

“I know. And you’re right. I am happier.”

“It seems like you and Sherlock have a special bond. He’s really taken to you. He’s not nearly so friendly when I’m around.”

“Yeah, well. I’m just trying to make him better. It’s my job.”

Molly nodded and smiled. “I think you’re doing a very good job.” A small blush crept over her face. “Of course, you always do a good job and- well, I think- it’s just, well, it’s nice having you work here.”

“Thank you, Molly.”

“How soon do you think it will be until he’s ready to leave?”

The question struck John by surprise. A lump seemed to form in John’s throat. He hadn’t thought of when Sherlock would have to leave. He knew Sherlock was going to get better but… he hadn’t actually thought about Sherlock being gone.

“Soon, I suppose,” he answered when he gave the question some serious thought. “Maybe by next week. Probably within two.”

Two weeks. In two weeks Sherlock was almost guaranteed to be completely recovered and released to be free to do as he pleased. 

-  
-

It turned out to be nine days until Sherlock seemed ready to leave. John had been taking him outside every day so Sherlock could get some fresh air and gain his strength by flying around. Today, Sherlock was flying around the bushes and trees in the enclosed area outside the back of their building. He wasn’t tiring at all, flitting back and forth, looking as though he belonged out here. And he did.

John sighed and leaned more heavily on his cane as he stood by the door and watched Sherlock. He had a sort of nervous, sick feeling in his stomach. The kind of feeling you get near the end of a really good first date because you don’t know what will happen next or if you’ll have such a wonderful time again. John didn’t usually have a hard time saying goodbye to the animals, but he didn’t know how he could say goodbye to Sherlock. He might have only been a hummingbird, but he trusted John and John felt somewhat… connected to him. John had been able to tell Sherlock things he wasn’t able to tell anyone else. 

Sherlock flew up to John and moved about his head before flying off to the flowers once more. As much as John didn’t want to admit it, it was time to let Sherlock go. His eyes mournfully followed Sherlock’s movements around the garden. 

Suddenly, Sherlock dropped to the ground. John barely had time to think before he was running across the grass and kneeling where he saw Sherlock fall, frantically muttering, “Alright? Are you alright?”

But as soon as John had gotten to his knees, Sherlock was up off the ground flying as if nothing happened. John gently cupped his hands around Sherlock, who stilled his wings and settled in John’s hands. There was nothing wrong with Sherlock as far John could see, he seemed perfectly fine. He was fine. Sherlock gave him a look and then took off once again. John sighed in relief. 

Then a thought crossed his mind.

He glanced back at the building and saw his cane lying on the ground by the door. John started laughing. He walked back over, picked it up, and held it in his hands. He smiled at it then looked over at his favorite hummingbird. “Goodbye, Sherlock,” he whispered. He went back inside.

-  
-

The next morning when John walked into work, without his cane, he was almost knocked over by Molly as she ran up and grabbed his arm. “Look, look!” she exclaimed pointing at the glass door that led to their garden. John obliged and saw on the other side of the glass a hummingbird. It was Sherlock, flying around and looking inside the building. 

“He’s been out there since I got here,” Molly explained. “I think he misses you.”

John opened the door and Sherlock flew in and quickly made his way over to the desk where he and John had spent many hours over the last couple weeks. Slightly worried that Sherlock might be injured or sick, John walked over and examined Sherlock. But Sherlock only bristled at the attention and appeared healthy and unhurt. John licked his lips, thinking. Should he keep Sherlock longer?

No, he shouldn’t do that. Ultimately, that would just be conditioning Sherlock to be domesticated and keep him from roaming free as he ought to. Sherlock was strong and strong-willed. He would be fine outside by himself. And he was ready to be. Damn it, John was going to have say goodbye again.

He took Sherlock outside and stayed with him for most of the day. Finally, John said, “Sherlock, you’ve been a very good friend. But you don’t have to stay here. You can go off wherever you want. Go back wherever you came from. Okay?”

-  
-

 

The next day John was greeted with Molly shaking her head. She tilted her head towards the door.

“He’s not giving up. I don’t think you’re going to get rid of him.”

John let Sherlock back inside, Sherlock flew around John’s head, messing up pieces of his hair. 

“I guess not.”

Sherlock continued to fly around the building, and John’s head, while he worked. Near the end of his shift John asked Molly, “Do you mind if I take off a little bit early.”

“No, go ahead.”

“Thanks.” He looked at Sherlock. “Are you ready to go home?” He considered putting Sherlock in a cage to take him back to his flat, but decided against it. If Sherlock wanted to fly off on his way home, John would let him. 

He held the front door open and Sherlock flew out. 

“Wait- John?” Molly called. John turned around.

“Would you,” Molly took a deep breath. “Would you like to have dinner later?”

John smiled and nodded his head. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Molly smiled too. “Good.”

“How about my place? At seven?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

John grinned as he closed the door. Amazingly, he felt happier than he had in a long time. He kept grinning as he walked all the way home with his hummingbird.


End file.
